


Tournament of Magic

by elirwen



Series: Kinkalot 2019 [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alpha Merlin (Merlin), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon, Knotting, M/M, Magic, Mates, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Arthur, purge didn't happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 02:36:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20481464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elirwen/pseuds/elirwen
Summary: Another year. Another boring, predictable tournament. Or is it?





	Tournament of Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Originally writen for the third week of Kinkalot 2019 - theme: kink link. Kinks used: omega verse, possessive behaviour. Song: Roar by Katy Perry.
> 
> This is a slightly longer version of the fest fic.

“Why can’t I go?” Arthur asks, failing to hide his disappointment.

He thought the arguments he presented were strong enough to win him a permission to join the patrol heading to the Darkling woods to deal with the new group of bandits currently residing in the area. 

“You are needed here,” his father says.

“But…” Arthur starts.

“You have duties at the tournament,” his mother confirms Uther’s words, finality in her voice. “Who knows, maybe you’ll even enjoy yourself this time.”

*

Arthur is not enjoying himself. 

There are only three new combatants, the rest same as always. And the three newbies don’t look like much. 

Arthur sighs, slumps further into his seat. It’s going to be pure torture.

*

“Didn’t you sleep at night?” his mother’s voice brings him out of a pleasant light doze.

“I’m awake,” he says, coughing to clear his sleepy voice.

“Of course,” his mother says, smiling. “You used to love the tournament as a child.”

“I guess I didn’t need much to be entertained,” he grumbles, watching the two men shouting incomprehensible words at each other, elements responding sluggishly to their command. A small gust of wind, dust thrown into opponents eyes, a few sparkles that wouldn’t light even the driest kindling. “It’s all the same year after year. Nothing changes! Even the victors are always the same. Nimueh. Morgause. Morgana.”

“You’ve been winning both the jousting and sword combat tournaments since you were 17,” Ygraine counters, amused. 

“Not the same,” Arthur says.

“Just give it a chance,” his mother says.

“What else can I do? I can’t leave, can I?” he says, further annoyed that his sour mood seems to only add to his mother’s amusement.

*

Loud bang yanks Arthur from yet another pleasant doze.

He jumps to his feet, his eyes scanning the area for an enemy, but there is no enemy. There’s only a cloud of dust sitting in the middle of the arena. A cloud that suddenly clears, swept up by a gust of wind, revealing one of the not too talented sorcerers lying on the ground and a young newcomer standing over him.

“Sorry, went a bit overboard,” the guy shouts, grinning sheepishly, and the crowd, shocked into silence up until that moment, erupts into cheers.

The guy looks straight at Arthur, tilting his head, his eyebrows rising in an unspoken question and only then Arthur realizes he’s still standing up, gripping the hilt of his sword, so he sits down, pretending nothing unusual happened.

“Still bored?” his mother whispers into his ear.

*

The new guy as Arthur calls him in his head, regretting now that he didn’t pay attention when the combatants were introduced, defeats three more opponents that day. He does so effortlessly, without moving an inch from his spot in the middle of the arena. 

Arthur stubbornly refuses to acknowledge the low simmer of arousal in his belly.

He also ignores the look of smug satisfaction on his mother’s face. 

*

“Merlin, son of Balinor,” the new guy is introduced once more at the feast. 

Arthur watches him as he bows and moves to the table reserved for the contestants who managed to pass into the second and final day of the competition.

*

He laughs at Gwaine’s joke, taking a step back to wave a servant over, only to collide with someone else.

“Sorry,” he hears, shiver running down his spine as his body reacts before his mind catches up.

He turns around, waves the apology away, mostly because his voice refuses to work.

“My lord,” Merlin takes his leave with only a slight hint of a bow, holding Arthur’s gaze for several long seconds before disappearing into the crowd, leaving Arthur breathless.

“Now, that one wouldn’t have to ask me twice,” Gwaine’s words pull him back to the present.

*

The protective shielding over the arena shimmers as the magical missiles Morgana throws Merlin’s way ricochet off his protective bubble. Merlin does nothing but defend himself. The missiles stop rebounding, start piling on top of his shield, Morgana sending more and more, laughing, already seeing herself victorious. 

And then…

Merlin sways forward. Arthur does too, quiet ‘no’ slipping past his lips.

But Merlin isn’t falling.

All of Morgana’s accumulated power flies back towards her.

She yelps, raising her own shield, but it fails against the onslaught of pure power that breaks through, shoves her against the barrier and holds her there, unharmed but trapped.

Arthur doesn’t see neither the moment she yields, nor the dissipation of all the power. All he sees is the gold swirling in Merlin’s eyes. 

“For you, My Lord,” echoes in his mind as Merlin’s lips more around the privately whispered syllables. 

Arthur’s insides clench in preparation for what might never come.

*

“Are you alright?” his mother asks as Nimueh and Morgause wage their contained war.

“Fine,” he says, but he’s not fine. 

He’s hours away from falling into a full-blown heat that was not supposed to arrive for two full months.

*

It’s hard to keep track of what is happening. The battle ground moves as Merlin and Nimueh draw on the elemental magic. Water and fire obscuring the way more often than not. 

Both combatants are breathing hard as they weave their spells. There’s no composure to them now, only the need to win pushing them beyond their limits.

A giant ball of flame hits Merlin squarely in the chest. Arthur rushes to the railing before he stops himself, faint with worry, breathing a sigh of relief when Merlin stands up as if nothing happened.

Nimueh starts forming something new and undoubtedly even more dangerous in between her palms and Merlin keeps his head low.

“Is he giving up?” Arthur asks no one in particular.

Merlin takes a deep breath and roars. Deep. Primal. Inhuman. 

Lightning strikes from the sky, forms a cage around Nimueh. It doesn’t stop no matter what she tries to do.

“Yield!” Merlin yells over the deafening sound of thunder.

She does.

And so do Arthur’s legs.

*

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” he assures his mother, back on his feet. “I have to… the winner…”

He grabs the trophy and heads towards the arena, attempting to look dignified but probably not fooling anyone. 

He presents the prize and he should be saying something, anything, but Merlin’s alpha scent is thick in the air. Only a quiet “oh” escapes his lips.

“Now you get it,” Merlin says, smiling and reaching out, waiting for Arthur to take the final step, to accept his alpha, his destiny, his forever.

*

Arthur sobs into the pillow. 

His body feels foreign, lost in pleasure, in the unending desire for more. More touches, more connection, more of the acute bliss of cresting orgasm.

“Please, please, please,” he begs.

Lost. Unearthed. Falling apart.

“No, no, shh, don’t cry.” 

There’s anguish in Merlin’s voice, tenderness in his caresses, warmth in his hold. 

“Don’t leave me,” Arthur pleads even though they’re locked together. “Don’t let me go.”

Merlin covers him with all of his weight, only his hips moving, his knot stroking Arthur’s insides. 

He’s grounded by his presence. His fears soothed by Merlin’s voice.

“My Prince. My mate. My everything.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and/or kudos are ♥
> 
> [My tumblr.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/elirwen)


End file.
